


Halcyon Rising

by Hyperius (Euregatto)



Category: Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Concept Story Arc, Deep Space Bounty Hunting, F/M, Inappropriate Humor, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Kylo Ren Has No Chill, Mild Language, Post TLJ, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, and everyone needs a hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-17 18:17:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13082556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Euregatto/pseuds/Hyperius
Summary: ***Spoilers for TLJ***The Force ripples between them."We both had our choices,"he tells her."You chose the destiny of righteous endeavor. I chose to reassemble the First Order as I believe it should become. Is that so wrong then, to be viewed as dictator when I’m simply an idealist?"Rey grips the edge of her bed until her knuckles bleed white. “Tell me about this traitor,” she says to divert the subject. Part of her wants to kick him, part of her wants to take his hand as she had done once before."No information is without cost."---Or, Kylo Ren convinces Rey to track down a mole. Unfortunately, deep space bounty hunting isn't all it's cracked up to be.A concept story, of sorts, told in two parts.





	Halcyon Rising

**Author's Note:**

> [So this song is what inspired me to write this:](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z1edsyIQePY)
> 
> Brooding hearts give young blood. | When does the feeling ever stop?  
> You can hide in the dark, | but the sun will rise sometime.
> 
> A concept story told in two parts (or 3 if that's how it works out), mostly because I need more Reylo in my life but also I wanted an excuse to make a vague attempt at a bounty hunter AU. Notes: BB-8 is referred to as a female simply because my friend put the idea in my head and I kind of wanted to work with it? I don't know if that has anything to do with cannon or not. There's also some stuff that's been altered a little that might be cannon in the series but here I am, throwing it all to the wind.

     

   

   

Rey thinks something, somewhere in the universe, is crumbling at the rate of a falling star. Part of her worries that the Force is warning her of impending doom, of another round of genocide at the hands of the First Order. Another part of her strides towards the barrier she’s thrown up between her and Kylo Ren after the battle of Crait, and she wonders if something’s wrong with him. (There’s so much wrong with _both_ of them she doesn’t know where to begin.)

Whatever it is, it happens all the time.

She awakens early that morning because that same _something_ offsets her mind. In her momentary state of confusion she jolts upright, seeking out her staff, only to recognize a different sensation – tapping on her barrier, like a finger against glass. For a moment she waits. The Force bends gently around her, pulsing with each nudge against the barrier, and she cautiously allows its power to amplify.

Kylo Ren says something incoherent before his voice comes into focus. _Rey, are you there?_

For a split second she considers cursing him out and slamming up the barrier again. “What do _you_ want?” she hisses, rubbing the exhaustion from her eyes with the heels of her hands.

 _It was not my intention to wake you._ He pauses, testing the waters of their conversation. _I can’t see you, Rey. Why do you insist on shutting me out?_

“Get out of my head, monster,” she spits back and turns away from him. If she focuses her attention on the distant thrumming of engines, she can block out his vague attempts at breaking through other seams of her veil. “If you don’t have anything important to say, get out.”

_I wanted to warn you. There was a traitor amongst your ranks._

Porgshit. “How would you know?” she asks, still off-standish but he has her attention all the same.

_If you want more information, I might suggest taking down your barrier._

“I refuse to entertain having someone like _you_ in my head.”

_You'll be doing me, and yourself, a favor._

“You?” she replies with a snarl. “What do I care what _you_ want out of this? Treacherous snake! I tried to trust you once before, and instead you seized the opportunity to become an oppressive, murderous monarch! For all I know you’re going to trick me into revealing our location.”

The Force ripples between them. _We both had our choices,_ he tells her, his voice monotonous but the irritation is threatening his every word at knife-point. _You chose the destiny of righteous endeavor. I chose to reassemble the First Order as I believe it should become. Is that so wrong then, to be viewed as dictator when I’m simply an idealist?_

Rey grips the edge of her bed until her knuckles bleed white.

_And if we are to be open about our feelings, you shouldn’t pour all your hope into a soul as tattered as mine. The dark and the light are not a risk-and-reward system._

He’s just baiting her, at this point. “Tell me about this traitor,” she says to divert the subject. Part of her wants to kick him, part of her wants to take his hand as she had done once before.

_No information is without cost. I wish to see you – or, perhaps, this matter could be discussed aboard my ship?_

“Not in this lifetime.”

_Then it seems I will have to utilize the information as provided to me by this…traitor, and come to you._

Rey’s heart stops. The room melds into a white static that shifts, her stomach tightens into coils. He must be lying but when she prods his emotions through their link, she finds, much to her horror, that Kylo Ren is telling the truth. He knows everything: the location of their base in a far sector in the Outer Rim, approximately how many soldiers are assembled, the number of their ships and the sparse weaponry in their arsenal.

“Why haven’t you attacked us then?” she inquires, steeling her nerves.

 _Because I wish to consider this a momentary truce._ There’s a second that passes between them like a serpent, thick and tense. _You can use this opportunity to escape, I suppose, but I am in a similar dilemma. This traitor hacked into private files and could expose several of our key military secrets. My council has also informed me that we have already pinpointed his possible whereabouts._

“So what’s your big plan?”

_The two of us work together. This way, we can avoid drawing attention._

Rey crosses her arms. “Can’t you use your military power to weed him out?”

_The term you seek is Martial Law, and no. A fleet of destroyers converging on a single location? He’ll run once he knows we’re coming. We have to find the mole when his guard is down and skin him alive. In return for your help, I won’t tell General Hux about the Resistance moving themselves off-world. Refuse, and I’ll destroy your base._

Rey shifts uncomfortably. “Why do you want _my_ help, Ben?”

He hesitates. It’s been months since he’s connected with her so intensely, let alone heard his name, and he can feel his very equilibrium tilting under the pressure. _My reasons are my own, but I will give you two hours to reconsider my offer. Perhaps that will give you ample opportunity to discover what the mole took with him when he fled your planet._

“Ben-”

_I’ll be in touch._

The link goes silent. Rey feels like she wants to vomit.

She throws herself up to her feet, rinses off with cold water and dresses. Her mind is attempting to disassemble itself, searching for the missing _thing_ , and turns her attention the other way when the sun rises over the horizon. The silhouette of the mountains moves into view behind the window pane. What could she be missing of such importance?

For now, Leia would have to know –

 _But what if he’s lying?_ Rey wonders, drawing to a brief stop at the threshold of the door. _What if he’s…_ But nothing could justify the genuine honesty in his words. She’s simply conflicted, because of _course_ she is, because why _wouldn’t_ she be? She hadn’t heard from him in months—(he’d been surprisingly quiet himself, despite the wall she herself threw up)—and now he was back at the swell of the Force where their connections latticed together.

Leia would have to at least know of her own son’s intentions, for the good of the Resistance.

Or something like that.

  

* * *

 X

* * *

 

 

“A mole?” Leia Organa says with a mild air of surprise. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“I don’t know if I should believe this isn’t a trick,” Rey replies despondently. On the holoprojection table is a map of their base, running a routine scan for any blips in its security system.

“Or a trap,” Poe Dameron remarks. He folds his arms against his chest and watches the diagnostic scan with eyes intense as a fire. With careful distinction, he’s also running a secondary scan of the logged and filed Resistance members on the base, the screen overlayed before him. It shows each and every profile, both complete and incomplete, with photos, stats, positions, and medical histories rolled into each tab.

Finn sits in the chair next to Rey’s. His gaze follows the scrolling logs but he doesn’t seem to make an attempt at deciphering the text. “What do you think?” she asks him carefully. He’s lost in his thoughts and unlike Kylo Ren, she can’t peer into his head for a deeper understanding. She wishes she could control the bond with people who aren’t Jedis, or at least evoke a glimpse into their minds as Ren had done to her.

“What else did Ren say?” Finn inquires, turning his head to look at her.

She swallows the rock in her throat. “He told me that he knows exactly where we are.” The entire room glances at her with a high note of terror. Leia turns her morose expression to the control panel beneath her hands. “But,” Rey continues before anyone can object, “he also told me that if I agree to his terms, he will give us time to escape.”

“That’s a lie if I ever heard one,” Finn seethes, crossing his arms.

“He can’t lie to me,” she reminds him. “If Ben tries to get into my head, I get into his.”

Finn looks away. “I don’t get why you insist on calling him that. He’s a _monster_ , Rey, he’ll never be turned and he’s lying through his teeth.”

Rey flinches, but doesn’t object. He’s still hurting, they’re all hurting – Leia’s brother is gone and her son is the Supreme Leader of their mortal enemies, Rose is in critical condition in the infirmary and most of their friends are _dead_ because Rey failed to change The Mighty Kylo Ren’s mind. “Either way,” she says gently, “I have to make a decision.”

Finn gives her an apologetic look but she merely smiles back. He has every right to be hurt. He has every right to blame her for not being involved in the battle of Crait because she delivered herself into Snoke’s hands with the childish hope she could recruit the man who had shut his heart to everyone but her. There was more she could have done to turn the tides in their favor.

“Sorry,” Finn says under his breath, “you know I don’t blame you for any of this. I just have a problem with the entire situation.”

“And that’s why I have to go to him,” Rey replies.

Leia nods. “If Ben is willing to snuff out the mole, it would be in our best interest to take this opportunity of distraction to leave for our next location.”

“Even if you never find our traitor,” Poe says matter-of-factly, “the distraction will give us time to pack up and take off.”

Finn sits upright in his chair, suddenly alert. “But what about Rey? If she gets trapped-”

“It’s okay Finn,” she says reassuringly. “He won’t hurt me.”

“But your lightsaber’s still in two pieces.”

She hesitates. “I should probably retrieve it then.” She turns her attention to the rest of the table and says, quizzically, “Do you know if it’s in working order yet?”

Poe abruptly faces her. “How would we know that? Don’t you keep it with you?”

“I left it to be repaired in the armory, remember?”

Poe and Finn look at each other, and then at Leia. She quirks her eyebrow. “I have no record of its inventory,” she says, her gaze falling in time to Rey as a collective realization descends upon each of them.

_Oh no._

* * *

 X

* * *

 

 

Kylo Ren knows what Rey is going to say before she can open her mouth. He’s standing poised by the viewing dock of the landing bay when he feels the barrier slam open with a flourish and Rey appears before him, a glare etched dangerously into her normally quaint features. She’s stronger, it seems. Her hair is longer, her body is more defined, months of rigorous training, for sure. And she gets to see him, although to her, nothing much has changed.

“Shall I prepare for your arrival?” he asks, cutting her off when she attempts to scold him, no doubt.

“Will you tell me where you are?”

“Look up.”

Rey cranes her neck up, probably looking up into the sky. She would, at that angle, see the fleet of ships sailing beneath the belly of the sun. He feels her sudden anticipation rising. Her guard falters for only a brief moment in her distraction; Ren can hear the voices in her mind, the breathing, pulsing memories of unending deserts and the innate fear of isolation. His subconscious empathy must have synched with her because she snaps her eyes back to him and then the moment passes like wind.

“I will send an escort,” he says.

“No,” comes her brash reply. “I’d much rather take a ship I can trust.”

She’s talking about the Falcon and her attempt at getting under his skin is _working_. He can pretend all his wants that he isn’t bothered. She knows better. She knows _him_.

“Very well,” he huffs out, and ends the connection.

  

* * *

 X

* * *

 

  

Rey can feel the thrumming of the Falcon's engines, vibrating the walls and the floor and the ventilation system. Around them is space, warped to resemble a rushing river of starlight. Nothing can relieve the unease digging a pit into Rey’s stomach, except for – evidently and ironically – Kylo Ren. He’s tense, but she’s almost relieved that he agreed to, well, _this_. “We’d blend in better with the Falcon,” she had said to him, again and again until he gave in because she was right.

“Chewie can’t come,” he muttered in return. There’s an unresolved problem between them for obvious reasons she doesn’t bring up.

Ren is in the copilot’s seat. He only touches what she asks him to, a button here, a switch there. Otherwise his arms are crossed. Rey can sense his discomfort, his undeniable agony – Snoke had let on, about Han Solo’s death tearing Ren into near halves of who he used to be – and they haven’t been this close to each other in months. She’s uncertain if approaching the subject would enrage him or shut him down completely.

“I’m not interested in discussing the matter,” he says abruptly, sensing her thoughts.

"Do you dream of him?" she asks in return, although her eyes remain on the controls. If she focuses, not enough to chase his emotions but only enough to keep him at her finger tips, she can feel the memories that burn bright, laced into the wires of the starship. Then she sees it flicker like a dying ember, briefly – Han Solo, his arm on his son’s shoulder, telling him a simple trick of piloting – before she’s violently retched out of Ren’s mind.

He’s glaring at her, annoyed by her intrusion. “I don’t know if I dream my own dreams,” he tells her, and she can feel him returning the prodding, “but when you do, I feel it. Sometimes what you see is what I see. _Especially”_ —he doesn’t look at her when he says this—“when you dream about me.”

She rejects his connection. “I _don’t_ dream about you. Don’t be so vain to assume otherwise.”

"Oh, but you do. I often fail to keep the thoughts from my head because you’re always in it.” He still doesn’t look at her, but he doesn’t have to. Her obvious irritation is radiating between them. "You may have your barriers up when you’re awake, Rey, but your sleep is without hindrance.”

Rey shoots up out of her seat, slapping on auto-nav and with a huff, storms out of the cockpit. Ren is left to his own accord for the remainder of the trip.

  

* * *

 X 

* * *

 

  

When Rey returns a while later, she still isn’t pleased with him, and he hasn’t moved an inch. As if he isn’t nearly as bothered as she often is. She remains relatively silent when she drops them out of their jump below the edge of the colonies. For several prolonged moments the Millennium Falcon drifts in the throat of darkness, illuminated only by far away stars and galaxies.

“There’s something I don’t get,” she begins cautiously. Ren emits a small hum of acknowledgement, but when he doesn’t reply, she continues, “Why not handle this yourself? If this mole really does have my lightsaber, in pieces or not, would that not give you an advantage to claim it for yourself?”

“You’ll find I’m not interested in having an advantage.” He shifts, settles. Despite his lax posture, Rey feels the rage riling at the base of his chest. “Lightsabers are a sacred weapon to the Jedi. I refuse to tolerate a petty thief’s lack of respect for our culture, no matter how forgotten it might be. I possess a conscious, as you are aware.”

Rey scoffs. “Don’t think for even a _second_ I’m going to thank you for this.”

“I expect no more, and no less.” He adds, almost to himself, “Consider this a favor returned.”

“What could you _possibly_ owe me?”

“We’re here,” he interjects, but makes no motion towards their destination.

“I don’t see a planet here,” Rey comments, scanning the endless, spacial expanse stretched out on every side of the ship. “Are we even in a solar system at this range?”

“I never said our mole was on a planet,” Ren tells her, keeping his gaze ahead. “There, do you see that?”

Rey turns her attention to the structure that crawls into view. It’s the size of a small moon, hundreds of floors and windows and lights, stationary with the help of their jets. Small starships, rugged freighters and outclassed fighters dock and depart at the rate of insects returning to a hive. Rey can see, even from here, the large lettering spelling out, H A L C Y O N.

“Looks like an old mining rig,” she observes.

“It is. Decommissioned rigs like this are sometimes stolen or left to float, and scavengers have turned them into trading bases. They’re perfect for those seeking a refuge, often to hide secrets or escape to the outer rim - especially those worth bounties or marked by the First Order.” He glimpses her once over. “I suspect that you’ll blend right in.”

Rey would return that quip with a well-aimed hit if he weren’t right. “So what about you then?” she asks, her eyes following him as he moves from his seat to the corner of the cockpit.

“I’ll be coming with you, of course.”

“You’ll stick out like a lake on Jakku,” she shoots back, standing to meet him. His eyebrow raises slightly (she's quite suddenly reminded of Leia). Rey sighs, gesturing to him as if he was little more than a strange anomaly in the cosmos. “You wanted stealth, and that outfit will give you away before you step foot on the landing dock.”

He supposes she’s right about that. “Then what do you suggest?”

“I think I can find some of your father’s old clothes,” she says as she exits the cockpit, trekking down the corridor with purpose in her stride. Ren reluctantly follows her ghostly trail. He finds her half a minute later in the sleeping quarters, specifically, the side that used to be where his father slept on long journeys. She’s rifling through the contents of Han Solo’s old closet.

The first memory that crosses Ren’s mind drags with it a parade of other thoughts he would much rather let die with his father, but the torn half of his spirit allows them to linger, and he subconsciously lifts his hand to the doorframe to recall the last moment he spent aboard the ship before leaving to train with Luke Skywalker. Rey must sense his shift because she looks at him with some semblance of pity that enrages him and breaks him all the same.

“Don’t do that,” he tells her quietly, almost pleadingly.

“Ben,” she starts to say, but something in the closet suddenly bangs around and then _beeps_.

The Jedis exchange startled glances. Rey slams open the panel to the closet and BB-8 rolls out, chirping with content. She’s blinded by a shirt over her head and nearly runs over Ren’s feet, slamming straight into the wall. “BB-8!” Rey exclaims. The droid beeps with excitement, shaking when the shirt is briskly removed. “What are you doing here?”

BB-8 beeps and chirps, rocking herself back and forth to emphasize her story.

“Poe didn’t trust me going alone with you,” Rey explains, tossing him the shirt, “so he hid BB-8 in the closet to accompany us.”

"I can understand droid," he replies with an undertone of agitation. Ren supposes he should have had his Stormtroopers do a more thorough scan of the ship before departure, but it doesn’t matter now. He unzips his stiff coat. “A droid that small won’t offer you much protection,” he says next, shouldering off his outer layer and exposing his bare chest. BB-8 blinks at him as if offended.

Rey flushes, but she doesn’t turn away from him. “You lack the common decency to let me leave first.”

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

BB-8 beeps awkwardly and rolls out the door. Rey storms out after her, turns to Ren with a glare, and she’s gone when he blinks. He bunches the shirt up in his hands; then brings it up to his nose, wondering if would smell like wet Wookie or exhaust pipe or Han Solo. Whatever it smells like, it reminds him of a place he killed with the rest of his past.

It doesn’t stop him from remembering though.

      

  


End file.
